


December 10th - All is Calm

by IMAgentMI



Series: RvB Ficlet Advent Calendar [10]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:38:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMAgentMI/pseuds/IMAgentMI
Summary: Christmas has never been a happy time for Maine.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not do trigger warnings, but this story does go to a bit darker place than I normally do, so consider this the only warning you`re going to get. If you keep reading, that`s up to you.

Maine sat on his bed, staring at the mound of presents he had just finished wrapping.  Maybe “wrapping” wasn’t quite the right word.  He had fought them into submission and taped down any ends that stuck out after.  The general effect was of a pile of grenades just beginning to explode. He sighed deeply and hung his head.

Christmas.  He hadn’t had to suffer through Christmas since he ran away from home when he was a teen.  Some years he had been lucky, and there was no Christmas at all - no tree, no presents, nothing to mark it out from any other day.  Those years his father spent most of his time passed out on the couch, or even disappeared for hours or days, leaving Maine to fend for himself.  Eventually he’d come home, looking disappointed to find his son hadn’t vanished or starved to death in the meantime.  Far worse were the years that his father tried to put on an appearance of Christmas, made a show of getting a tree and presents.  These gestures were in no way loving - every gift had a barb in it. Toys were only given so they could be taken away and bargained with, or destroyed in a petty act of revenge for any perceived misbehaviour.  And if Maine showed anything less than fawning gratitude for anything he received (including that jug of antifreeze when he was seven) he was screamed at for being ungrateful.  Then his father would stomp out of the room, and Maine sat next to the hateful tree, shaking and afraid to even move.  

He thought he’d been able to leave Christmas behind when he joined the military.  It was still in the background every year, happening to other people, but for the most part he could avoid it.  That was until this year, when North happened.  Maine woke up one morning to a wreath on the wall next to his door and carols that he couldn’t escape, even across the entire ship. The rec room smelled strongly of cinnamon and cloves, and someone had put a stocking with his name on it up on the wall, in a line with stockings for all the other Freelancers, and every time Maine saw it, it filled him with dread.

There was a knock at his door.  He shook himself free of his thoughts and sat there a moment longer, to see if his unwanted visitor would leave if he didn’t respond.

“Maine?”

Ah.

Maine rose and walked to the door, at the last minute panicking and running back. He gathered up all his freshly wrapped presents and stuffed them under the bed.  He got back to open the door, just as Connie was raising her hand to knock again.  Her fist dropped and she smiled weakly.  

“Oh!  Hey, sorry Maine.”  Connie sounded perfectly calm, but Maine noticed the way that she gripped the book in her hands, knuckles turning white with the pressure.  “Is there...any chance I can come in?  Just for a bit?  Only things are a little...too Christmasy...by my quarters.  North is in the eggnog again.”  She held up her book.  “I’m just looking for a quiet place to hide from carols and mistletoe for a bit.”  

Maine stepped aside and let her in.  Connie stood in the center of his room, turning slowly as she tried to decide where to sit, but her cheeks were growing red.  She dropped her head as though suddenly embarrassed. “I’m really sorry about this.  I mean, I’m usually fine, but just… sometimes things… it’s just a bit…”  She stopped, cleared her throat.  “I don’t…everything’s fine… but sometimes it’s too…”  She paused again, her mouth chewing around unsaid words until she gave up.  “It’s just… I had a… really unpleasant childhood.  Christmas doesn’t have any good memories for me.  I mean, I’m okay - I get by,” she continued hastily, “but right now, things are just too much.  I needed a break.”  

The explanation didn’t ease her nerves - the more she talked, the more Connie seemed to regret even coming.  She glanced toward the door but before she could move, Maine was there, wrapping his arms around her and the noise she made against his chest sounded like a startled cat.  He cringed, began to pull away, but now  _ she _ had her arms around  _ him _ and was hugging back with all her might.  

They stood there together for far longer than would have otherwise ever felt comfortable, but neither was willing to be the one to break this communion, this tiny moment of peace that neither had expected to find tonight.  And as Maine stood there, Connie’s head tucked protectively under his chin, he came to a decision.

“Connie?”

“Yes?”

“Do you mind, if just for a little while, we can talk?”

“Sure, what about?”

Maine took a slow breath, and began. 

 


End file.
